


The Demon and the Werewolf

by Kawaiicoyote



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Blood, Crossover, Cutting, Demon Stiles Stilinski, Demonic Possession, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Pain, Possession, Teen Wolf/Supernatural AU, Winchester Brothers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-21
Updated: 2012-09-21
Packaged: 2017-11-14 17:39:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kawaiicoyote/pseuds/Kawaiicoyote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles becomes posessed. The Winchester brothers have come to take care of the demon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Demon and the Werewolf

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GeeGollyWiz13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeeGollyWiz13/gifts).



> Written for my beloved friends Kiwi and Kayla.  
> unbetaed because of quick writing and posting.  
> All mistakes are mine.

There are gashes across his chest and stomach, they’re not too deep. Derek knows he’ll heal but they’re not healing fast enough to keep his blood from seeping into the fabric of his wife beater, it makes the fabric cling wetly to his skin.

“Stiles,” He rasps to the teenager who is wielding a machete, the weapon that did all the damage to him. If it had been anyone else aside from Stiles, they wouldn’t have made it passed one cut on him before they found their face beat in.

But this was Stiles Stilinski, the secret genius, the only one who got away with calling him SourWolf. The only one who actually managed to wheedle their way inside of his heart and stay there.

The boy wasn’t acting right. It made him wonder if they boy was on drugs. The down smile that split his face as he swung the machete at Derek just wasn’t natural, it wasn’t something that belonged to that carefree clown.

The Alpha’s ears perk when he hears the sound of approaching footstep. They’re heavy and sound like they have a determined purpose.

Derek’s eyes flash crimson as he wheels himself around and snarls, it catches the two approaching men off-guard completely.

“Whoa did not see that coming,” A rough sarcastic voice shouts and Derek finds the muzzles of a gun leveled between his eyes.

“Dean, put the gun down, we have bigger fish to fry here,” A giant of a man, but with a softer spoken voice, hisses an Derek is relieved to see the pistol lowered.

The relief is short lived as the pair takes a steps towards Stiles who is standing a few feet away from them, grinning his twisted smile and breathing harshly.

“You’re not touching him,” Derek barks, not holding back as his wolfs out on the two, eyes blazing crimson and fangs barred menacingly.

The taller of the two stops in his tracks and clamps a hand tightly over the shorter ones shoulder and yanks back hard to make him stop.

“Okay look wolf boy, we’ll deal with you late but _that,_ ” Gruff voice says, stabbing a finger in Stiles direction, “Has gotta go.” He actually hikes his pants higher, in a macho fashion that makes Derek roll his eyes, and takes another step forward.

Derek snarls and steps right up to him, crowding in his space. They’re nose to nose, Derek only being slightly taller by two inches at most, but has a good twenty pounds of muscle on the other man.

 “You’re not touching my boyfriend,” Derek grits out. In the back of his mind he never thought he’d admit to his and Stiles relationship for the first time in a situation like this.

The other guy however doesn’t back down, his jaw squared as he puffs out his chest and jabs his finger into Derek’s chest. “Look _pal_ , that isn’t your boyfriend in there right now.”

“What,” Derek deadpans but can’t help but look back over his shoulder at the teenager. He lifts his head and inhales the air, frowning at the scent. It smells like Stiles, but it smells wrong. It smells like blood, and sulfur, and something else that he can’t catch.

“Your, erm, boyfriend,” The tall herbal essence-esque haired starts out carefully, taking a step close to the both of them, glancing at Stiles behind them as he does so. “Is possessed by a demon, and we’re trying to help him, but you’re kind of getting in the way.”

“Can’t we just shoot him and get it over with, Sammy?” Gruff voice, or Dean as Derek heard him be called earlier, says and reaches for another gun with a symbol that Derek can’t quiet catch etched on the handle. He and Same both open their mouths to object but another voice speaks and makes them all whip around towards it.

“The Colt will kill me,” A voice says from Stiles’ mouth, but sounds nothing like the boy at all. “But at this point, I’m the only thing keeping him alive!” The cackle that erupts from Stiles mouth sends shivers down Derek spine as he stands, watching on in horror as the boy takes the machete and starts  to drag it across his wrists and arms, he winces with a smile as he points the very tip to his stomach and presses it in but not too deep.

“Stop!” Derek shouts as he stand watching helplessly. The boy turns his gaze to him and in a blink his eyes are pitch black, no longer the eyes of his clown of a boyfriend.

“Stoooop,” The demon whines with a giggle, pressing in the tip of the blade in deeper. “Oh you should hear his screams Derek. He’s so scared and he’s crying for you. But what could you do to help him.” The thing throws his head back and cackles again, abruptly stopping and leveling his gaze at the three.

“On second thought, do hear him,” It says and then, clarity comes back to Stiles eyes and he drops to his knees.

“D-derek!” Stiles screams, blood pouring from his wounds onto the concrete below, dripping from his mouth as he coughs. His eyes are wide and panicked and filled with tears. Derek makes a step towards him but then the black eyes are back and the demon has hold of him again.

“So tragic,” The demon taunts with a grin that slides across his face from ear to ear. Derek turns to look at the pair.

“That,” He waves his hand at the gun, “Won’t kill him will it?”

“Not if we hit a non-vital area,” Same says, brows drawn together in confusion, “But that demon is holding him to_”

“Do it,” Derek snaps, the gears in his head already turning.

“Dude we can’t just_” Dean starts in, Derek’s hand flies to the man’s shirt , fisting the material tightly as he growls and yanks him close.

“I’m a werewolf, I can save him if we do this quick, so stop wasting my fucking times,” His voice is low and calm and the worst kind of deadly.

Dean nods and Derek yanks himself away and steps back. Sam and Dean exchange a look and then Dean is reaching into his side holster and drawing the gun. He levels the gun, cocks it, and pulls the trigger.

In the next moment Stiles goes down screaming, black smoke billowing from his mouth and then nothing.

Derek can hear him try to scream but the blood filling his mouth is choking him.

Blood, there’s so much blood everywhere when Derek drops to his knees beside Stiles. The other two are pacing behind him and one of them sounds like he’s praying to a deity called Castiel but Derek can’t be too sure as he cradles the thin boy to him.

“Stiles,” He says firmly, trying hard to keep the panic in his voice from showing. Stiles sputters and coughs, blood dripping from his mouth but his eyes are locked onto his. “Let me give you the bite. Let me save you.” He’s begging, he’s never begged for anything in his whole life but he can’t let this boy die. Not when he just found him. Not when his life is finally worth living again.

Stiles stares up at him, his breathing raspy and wet and shallow, but finally nods. It’s a subtle nod but when Derek moves in, fangs bared, he doesn’t pull away.

The Alpha closes his eyes when he sinks his fangs into Stiles and the boy makes a gurgled scream. It breaks his cold, iced over heart, but he keeps his jaw locked onto him until he’s sure that the bite will take then releases him.

“Help me stop this bleeding,” He barked to the other two, not even looking at them. He can hear them shuffling towards him, the both of them ripping off jackets and shirts to use and makeshift tourniquets. They wrap them tight around Stiles wrists and press them firm against the deep gashes in his stomach despite the blood seeping through.

Derek holds him, tries to keep his eyes open and alert.

Now they’re playing a waiting game.

Derek can only watch on and hope that they weren’t too late.  

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Implies happy ending and wolfy Stiles. But it doesn't mean that necessarily. Hehe.


End file.
